The Perfect Crime
by Lemon Zinger
Summary: A 221B series that will go as far as I dare take it. Updates will probably be random, but bear with me. The rating may fluctuate if I add something questionnable. NO SLASH! Latest installment: Lestrade takes a swim...
1. Bachelor

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Here it is, my attempt at a 221B series. I only hope I do the characters justice. While on that topic, I own none of the works of Sir Doyle... sadly. Any questions or comments,** please** review!

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I sat, wrapped in my robe, in front of the fire, I watched him smoke his pipe as he leaned on the mantle. I opened my mouth to ask him to explain, but I noticed his pose and the rhythm of the smoke swirling above his head. He was deep in thought. I closed my mouth, not wishing to disturb him.

"I sense you were about to ask me something, please, go ahead." Holmes bade me.

"Holmes, I don't understand, why didn't you run after Marcson when he fled after beating me?" I asked slowly. "You had successfully freed yourself." I had managed to hold in a cough until after I had spoken.

It hurt and I could feel the pain, slightly dimmed from a narcotic, shoot up from my left side where Marcson had kicked me twice after landing a blow to my head. Holmes was at my side in an instant, doing the best he could do to offer support.

"Are you sure you don't need a doctor?" Holmes asked, looking into my eyes sternly.

"No Holmes, it's just bruising." I replied. "Aren't you scared of Marcson coming after you again? It'll be a life of fear if he eludes Lestrade-"

"My Dear Watson, a life without you scares me more," said the bachelor.


	2. Bear

I was in a foul mood. Sixteen months of dodging traps left for me by Moriarty's men and having little or no distraction from my troubles was a recipe for what my dear Boswell called a black mood.

Watson. How many letters had I written and burned, unable to reveal my existence? I prayed for his voice to break into my melancholy. I had not expected to miss him this much.

Sometimes, I wondered if I would ever see him again. Would I come home, weary but free, to find him ill or even dead? Could I bear such a return?

I had to shake those thoughts away; I needed to focus on the task at hand so I could return to London, and to Watson, as soon as possible. I drew out a piece of paper, intending to write of my travels to the papers. This was my only possible way of communicating to Watson.

I almost signed the bottom 'Holmes.' I had to blot out the 'H' and write the name I had taken- Sigerson. It was the name I had chosen, but loathed. It was not something Watson would recognize. Sometimes I doubted if he would read my writings at all.

"My dear Watson," I sighed wearily. "When I miss you, it's more then I can bear."


	3. Boswell

I knew Watson was the romantic type, but I never pictured him marrying and leaving me so quickly. He had become my friend and welcomed company for my lonely life. And now he was leaving me? He'd rushed up; face red with excitement, bursting into our rooms at eleven o'clock at night to wake and tell me Mary Morstan has accepted his proposal of marriage.

"Aren't you excited for me?" He asked, face still red from running and breathing heavily. I opened my mouth, but no words came out. His face fell into a look of disappointment.

"Oh Holmes, I'm sorry, I agreed to go half on you with the rooms and now I'm… I truly am sorry old fellow." He said, looking truly torn.

"Watson, I can manage." I growled, getting out of bed. Suddenly, we heard a knock at the door- Mary.

"John! You left me standing on Oxford Street!" Mary Morstan exclaimed, looking at him. His face went into a look of shock as he realized what he had done.

"Good show Watson." I said slipping back into my bedroom and shutting the door closed. I could rest in peace. Mary Morstan may be his wife, but he had left her to come tell me of their engagement… if it still stood. He would always be my Boswell.

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I was getting sick of the drama between them so that was my attempt at some humor.


	4. Blanket

"Watson!" I cried as I came into the door. I must've startled the poor fellow out of a nap because he was more then startled at my appearance. He leaped out of the chair, tossing a blanket carelessly into the fire.

I was quick to act, reaching with my new walking stick… or spear, rather, to pull out the unfortunate cloth and holding it on the metal tip as Watson fetched a glass of water to douse the smoldering blue bundle.

"Holmes you startled me!" He said accusingly, looking at the blanket in dismay.

"I'm deeply sorry Watson, I had no idea that you were sleeping, it's only six in the evening." I said.

"Well, Mrs. Hudson will not be pleased." Watson commented, eyeing the charred blanket which now had a hole in its middle with a black rim around it.

"I should say not, but you haven't commented on my outfit!" I said, posing while still holding the blanket on the spear. I had a golden robe accented with a purple sash and a turban instead of a hat. He looked unimpressed.

"You look ridiculous." He said, eyeing the costume with a look of disgust. He threw me a smile to show he was jesting. Then his smile faded as his eyes fell back on the blanket.


	5. Brightly

Holmes was annoying me to no end when he dragged me out on case after case shortly after I had finally settled in with Mary. Mary claimed she didn't mind, but I did when Holmes would drag me out and return me at horrible hours of the night when I was too tired to actually enjoy my marriage.

I finally said so one night to Mary after a particularly trying day with Holmes arguing with Gregson for most of the day. The case was neither interesting nor worth spending twelve hours running about with the detective, who had not been in much mood for conversation. I was becoming tired of being a sounding board.

"Oh but John, you must realize Holmes is just showing he misses you." Mary said, looking at me with a smile that told me she thought I was being childish. I did know it, but did he really need my presence so often and for so long?

"Mary, I saw more of you when I lived in Baker Street shortly before our marriage." I said, staring at her.

She couldn't resist laughing. "Watson, if you were to argue that point with Holmes, you know what he'd say?"

"I have no idea." I replied sourly.

"He'd tell you to move back to Baker Street." My wife said brightly.

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**So sorry this took forever, my sister turned ten this past week so I was busy making a gift and all that fun stuff. **


	6. Back

After Mr. Gibson stormed out, Watson went to the door and shut it before turning back to me. "How on earth did you know about his relationship with the governess?" Watson asked in calm amazement. I could see that he was still jumpy. He'd stood up when Mr. Gibson made to strike me. Good old Watson.

"Bluff, Watson, bluff." I said. I explained my reasoning considering Mr. Gibson's actions and attire. "I bluffed him by giving the impression that I was certain of it."

"When in reality you were only suspicious." Watson concluded. "Do you think he'll come back?" He asked.

Goodness how I hoped so. I had been without such a delightful puzzle for so long that I had been moody and not a very easy companion as of late. Yet Watson had stayed by my side, when he was not out tending the sick or at his club. He'd not only been a very understanding friend, but also very tolerating. Mrs. Hudson had not found it so easy to put up with me and had wisely chosen this time for a vacation. For everyone's sake, I needed this case. Watson's look told me I'd better not ruin it with my bluff.

"He is sure to come back." I said, assuring myself as much as him. "He must come back."


	7. Breathing

I suppose I should have seen it coming. Later, I would complain about his ability to find any file I wanted quickly and without trouble. Meanwhile I caused our sitting room to become littered with paper.

It had been a horrible three days with a nonstop torrent of rain pounding the city. I was in a foul mood without a case and Watson was bored. Finally, he started organizing my case files.

I had never considered doing that. To me, the files were all in the room somewhere and when I needed one I could easily tear apart the room to find it. Watson had commented many a-time about the state of the room after I had gone through it for a certain file. Now he was organizing them!

"Watson really, it's not that big of a deal." I said, eyeing him from my seat by the fire. My words were slightly mumbled as I tried to talk around the pipe in my mouth.

Watson turned around with a stack of papers in his hand and another stack firmly clenched in his mouth. Somehow, he freed a hand from the jumbled mess and then freed his mouth.

"Holmes, this is an absolute disaster!" He exclaimed hotly. "You may enjoy being surrounded by mountains of paper, but I for one enjoy breathing!"


	8. Beard

Watson has often commented on my disguising abilities, but he's lucky that he's not stuck out on a chilly night in an uncomfortable position watching a shop for a horrible man while wearing an extremely itchy beard.

I tried to control my temper as I considered getting up and carrying out my earlier threat to burn the place. I didn't want to be here, I wanted to be at home by the fire with Watson.

And the other man was still there too. I knew I should not stir until he did, and might be here well into the morning. There was little doubt that I could fight him off if necessary, but I was more concerned in discovering his business with this whole affair and if he was working for someone higher up. So I would wait for him to lead me to the answer.

The name Moriarty had come up recently in several cases and I began to wonder if I was drawing a net around him. Lestrade would think it the accomplishment of a lifetime, but I feared catching him would slow crime and leave me with fewer cases.

I adjusted a little and gave a snore to make my fellow watcher think I was still asleep. I really wanted to itch, but could not. Damn this beard!


	9. Bartendar

I finally got up and started for home. I took an awkward route, just in case I was being followed and noticed I was. It wasn't the blonde from last night, but another nasty looking fellow. I quickly turned into a pub and took a seat.

"Mornin to ye," the bartender said.

"There will be a reward if you help me. My name is Jack and act like you know me well." I whispered urgently.

"Jack! Slept off yer drinks last night?" The bartender said. I saw my pursuer enter the bar and sit at a table behind me.

"Some ale, please," I said in a disguised voice, glad the man was playing along.

"Be with you in a moment sir!" called the bartender. "Here ye are Jack!" He said, sliding a glass to me. I caught it and sipped it.

"And what'll be your pleasure sir?" The bartender asked the other guest.

"The same," he replied.

"Commin' up," the bartender said.

"Put it on my tab." I said.

"Mighty fine of ya," my follower said, glaring at me suspiciously.

I watched as the bartender filled the glass and added a white powder to it. He slyly winked at me before serving the drink.

Soon enough, my pursuer was out cold. On my way out I thanked and paid the bartender.

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A/N: I am currently working on a long 221B story and the last two chapters have been previews. I will start posting it once I have it all typed out (because as you may have noticed, I'm not good with getting on regularly) My parents are splitting, I've had to move... so yea, I've been busy!


	10. Bother

Once again we found ourselves captured, bound, and awaiting the chance for escape or rescue- but for prides sake, preferably escape. Holmes and I were back to back, our hands bond behind us and the ends of the rope tied to a piller that reached from the floor to the ceiling.

Holmes was shifting constantly to try to reach the pocket knife he kept with him at all times. After a few minutes of hearing him struggle, I thought of a plan.

"Do you want me to help?" I asked finally.

"I don't see how you could!" He snapped, agitated by the turn of events. I ignored it, out of compassion, and explained my idea.

"If you move over here closer to me and twist, I can reach in and get the knife."

Holmes was silent a moment, then I heard him moving. I did not tease him, regardless that I was tempted to, his pride had been wounded enough lately. Instead I reached out, feeling inside his coat pocket for his knife. I managed to pull it from his pocket, slid out the blade, and get to work sawing his bonds.

After being tied thirty minutes, my hands were not as steady as usual, but I was managing.

Suddenly, I sucked in air as pain shot through me. "Oh bother!"


	11. Blade

I tensed as I heard Watson's exclamation. I could tell he was hurt, but I didn't know how he'd been injured or how serious it was. I could only try to turn my neck enough to look at him but could only catch his profile out of the corner of my eye.

"Watson?" I asked, my agitation about our captivity fading into fear for my loyal comrade. I glanced around for our captors, but none were there.

When Watson didn't respond immediately, I raised my voice a little, panic creeping into me.

"Watson what happened?" I demanded. Had he fainted? Another alternative came to me and I tried to force it away, but it was his voice that did so.

"Give me a second Holmes." He responded. I could hear the pain in his voice and impatiently waited for him to explain.

"Holmes, have you your hankerchief?" He asked.

"Its in the same pocket." I responded. I moved to make sure he could reach in and get it. I didn't tell him that a few strands of hair were there for safekeeping.

"What happened?" I asked again, hoping he'd respond this time.

"My hand slipped, I cut my arm Holmes." Watson said finally.

"Badly?" I asked, wondering if he could tell without seeing the wound.

"Well it _is_ a sharp blade!"


	12. Bleeding

I tensed as I heard Watson's exclamation. I could tell he was hurt, but I didn't know how he'd been injured or how serious it was. I could only try to turn my neck enough to look at him but could only catch his profile out of the corner of my eye.

"Watson?" I asked, my agitation about our captivity fading into fear for my loyal comrade. I glanced around for our captors, but none were there.

Holmes was silent a moment and I regretted my callous words. It was not his fault that the blade had slipped. It was of no use dull.

"I'm sorry Holmes." I said. "It's not your fault. It hurts like blazes but I don't think it's too serious- its on the side."

"Are you able to stop the blood flow?"

"The bonds are so tight that it makes it difficult to." I replied honestly.

"Let me see if I can." I said, groping for where his injury was. I found it and my hankerchief that was pretty wet from blood. Scared, I applied pressure and hoped that it would stop the bleeding.

"Holmes?"

"Yes?" I replied.

"Sorry."

"Watson it's not your fault!"

"I know, I just wish I could have-" Watson broke off and I fought the panic rising in me.

"Watson?"

"I'm alright, just getting dizzy." Watson mumbled.

I held his arm firmly, determined to stop the bleeding.


	13. Bonds

After a couple minutes, it felt like his arm had stopped bleeding- or at least slowed down.

Silence had fallen between us, and I fell into brooding over our predicament. I felt responsible for the whole thing- it was I who was so uncomfortable without him by my side that I often dragged him into danger.

Frustration made me jerk my hands, forgetting that I couldn't pound the floor while I was tied up. As I jerked, I felt something start to give. I experimented with this- twisting my hands to get an idea of how much room I had to move around. I felt elated as one hand loosened considerably.

I started feeling for the blade. "Watson where did you put the knife?!" I exclaimed.

"Here." Watson said, putting an object clumsily in my hands. "I started on yours."

"Watson, I think I can get loose." Suddenly his words sank in. "Mine?"

"Well you're the one who is supposed to come up with the plan of escape… and its hard to saw at my own bonds…" Watson explained. I didn't know whether the pauses were because he was tired or because of how awkward the conversation was.

"Give me a couple minutes and I'll have us both free."

True to my word, within ten minutes I'd sawed through my bonds.


	14. Bargain

Within two hours, we'd gotten outside- met by Lestrade, gotten back to Baker Street, and I had helped Watson bandage his arm. We were sitting peacefully together in front of the fire, with Watson dozing off.

"A penny for your thoughts." His voice startled me when he spoke, I had thought he had gone to sleep.

"Watson, I hope you know that I'm sorry for what happened."

"It wasn't your fault." Watson said, looking at me sharply.

"I'm sorry I drag you out with me on these cases time after time even though I worry time after time that my foolhardiness will cause you injury…"

"Holmes, let's make a pact." Watson said, voice serious.

"On what terms?" I said.

"I reserve the right to accompany you, regardless of injury, and you must not blame yourself if I do get injured." Watson said. I reflected for a moment on this. Even though I didn't like dragging him into danger, I would love to have him at my side.

"And what do I get?"

"A biographer, free publicity, someone to banadage you when you get injured-" Watson smiled.

"Please Watson, do not remind me of my unrepayable debt to you."

"Do you agree?" Watson pressed.

I was glad he wasn't looking at me so he couldn't see me act emotional. "It's a bargain."


	15. Bacteria

I knew Holmes to be a terrible patient and couldn't inflict the trouble of looking after him to any of the other doctors. So I went myself, was let in by a worried landlady, and slowly climbed the stairs. A light was flickering on the other side of the closed sitting room door and I knocked softly.

"Holmes?"

"If you're here to inflict me with your confounded medications, go away!" He called.

"Holmes, what if I agree not to interfere until you ask?" I asked.

He muttered a relunctant agreement and permitted me to come in. I quickly called for tea, into which I slipped a sedative.

When he awoke in his bedroom a few hours later he glared at me from under several covers. Though he had a fever, he managed to look threatening. "Well doctor?"

"Pneumonia, but only a minor case." I replied.

"Right in the middle of a case too!"

"You'll just have to let Lestrade handle it."

Holmes groaned. "How long will I be ill?"

"Depends on if you follow my instructions."

At his submissive silence, I turned to start cleaning up the spot on his dresser that I had used to set out my supplies.

I stopped, stunned, by his next complaint: "who would have thought such a wretched illness could be caused by microscopic bacteria?"


	16. Bang

"Holmes, must you do that today?" I asked, wrinkling my nose as an unpleasant smell reached my senses from across the room.

"Watson I put up with your scribblings at all times- convenient or not." Holmes called over.

"I also put up with your violin playing."

"What about your constant nagging about my health?"

"What about your complaining about me being to timid in making deductions?"

"And what about your… your…"

I turned around. "You can't think of another thing can you?" I asked with a sly smile.

"Your need to always have the last word?" Holmes said, not looking at me, but down at his bubbling liquids.

"My need to have the last word? I never have the last word!"

"Watson I can't concetrate!"

"Does this mean your stopping?" I asked, looking at him hopefully.

He glared at me. "If I get this wrong I would likely blow something up."

"If you blow something up Mrs. Hudson's likely to kick you out as she's threatened to." I said, though I doubted our longsuffering landlady would ever act upon the threats she'd made. She, like I, had grown too fond of Holmes to be unforgiving.

"Stop being dramatic, I have yet to make a mistake in my experiments."

"There's a first time-" My retort was cut off by a loud bang


	17. Betise

**Continuation of last**

"Watson, water!" Holmes shouted. I rushed to fetch the closest substitute- a pot of tea- and threw it on the smoking chemistry table.

Mrs. Hudson knocked, but did not wait for an answer. She charged in, looking startled and furious at the same time. "What have you done?" She demanded, glaring at the detective.

Holmes looked nervous about the confrontation. I felt for him; not only had his experiment been ruined, but he might never be able to do them again if Mrs. Hudson decided it was too risqué.

"It was my fault," I heard myself say, "I startled him."

Mrs. Hudson fixed me with a disbelieving look, but I knew she was far more likely to forgive an accident that was my fault- they were few and far in between.

"I'll get some towels." Mrs. Hudson said. She brought them back promptly, and left us to clean up.

"Watson, you didn't have to do that." Holmes mumbled as I bent down to mop up the floor.

"No, but it's alright Holmes. I should have listened when you told me I was distracting you."

"But I should have listened to you when you asked me to stop." I looked up at him and noticed he seemed deeply concerned that I had taken the responsibility for what he felt was his bêtise.


	18. Boethetic

**Continuation of last**

"Holmes." I sighed, sitting up straight as my voice grew serious. "We have shared these rooms for a long time, and I don't want that to change. I can stand some annoyances from time to time. I only hope I'm not to much of an annoyance."

"Watson, your not an annoyance!"

"Even when I badger you about your health? And complain about your playing and experiments?" I asked.

"Of course not! I do my far share of complaining too."

"I'll try to not complain so much when it's only a minor annoyance."

"So will I, but how can I tell when it's a minor annoyance and when I need to desist?" Holmes asked.

"I'll try to be more clear from now on." We were quiet for a few moments. "Well, there is one good thing about all this." I said, trying to lighten his mood.

"What's that?"

"Mrs. Hudson can't complain her tea _always_ goes to waste."

When Mrs. Hudson heard laughter coming from the sitting room where she hoped her lodgers were tidying up, she peeked in to see what they were up to. Only she could smile at the two full grown men laughing hard enough to cry on a wet floor beside a blackened chemistry table.

After all, Mrs. Hudson was a firm believer that laughter was boethetic.


	19. Been

**My lucky readers, I am sick and bored, so all these updates are just the result of a random bit of luck that I had a chance to get on the computer. Hope you have enjoyed them. This one is not a continuation of the last.**

We were walking along Baker Street. I was actually limping, due to my sore leg- the result of a slip on ice. Holmes had convinced me to take a walk with him, insisting the warm spring air would do me good (though he bundled me up in my heavy coat and scarf). I had to admit, it did feel pleasant to get outside for the first time in nearly three months. I had be a terrible companion for those long weeks, miserable about my incapacity.

Holmes had stuck it out with me and hadn't complained. I remembered one evening when I had unjustly chastised him for patronizing me. He had begun playing my favorite songs. I felt terrible about what I'd said, but I'd forgotten to apologize.

I began to fall behind him and hurried to catch up. I began to apologize, but my leg decided to give out and I felt myself falling. I shouted in surprise, and felt my arm grasped by a strong hand. Holmes lifted me back to my feet and turned so we were heading back towards home.

"Thanks Holmes, for everything."

"It was nothing." He said, disregarding my thanks.

He stayed close to my side, though not too conspicuously, the whole way back. A more wise and noble- if stubborn- man there had never been.

**I am sometimes seriously jealous of those two. I don't have a friend like that... **

**Please review!**


	20. Blanched

I swung out at the ruffian who had knocked Holmes down, but my sore arm was too slow. Suddenly, I felt the barrel of a gun pressed against my head. I looked over to see Jenkins looking at Holmes with a sinister smile. My friend had recovered from his fall, but was looking at me nervously.

"Drop it." Our antagonist ordered. Holmes instantly acquiesced by dropping his revolver. I could see the fear in his eyes as he looked at me and I knew his mind was rapidly concocting a plan.

"Give up Jenkins. Scotland Yard will be here any minute." Holmes said, trying to buy time. He had sent one of the irregulars to fetch the police before the fight had started.

"I'll already hang for murder, I might as well hurt you by killing him." Holmes's eyes darkened.

"Jenkins, release him." Holmes snarled.

"Why should I?"

Holmes stepped forward threateningly, but Jenkins eyed him menacingly.

Deciding to take advantage of his momentary distraction, I ducked and turned, whacking his side with my fists. He cried in pain and surprise as Holmes jumped forward to disarm him and knock him unconcious.

As he reached down to help me up, I looked up at him and I could read how scared he had been by how bad his face had blanched.

**This goes out to my three reviewers from yesterdays mega-update: KCS, xravenscroftx, and han8661. I appreciate you all so much! This isn't that great of an update, but it IS an update. So be happy.**


	21. Birds

**A/N: You can choose whose POV this is from. I couldn't make up my mind.**

I was awakened by his muffled cries and his constant tossing and turning. Getting out of bed, I donned my dressing gown and put on my slippers. I quietly went into his bedroom, hoping I could chase away the terrors that plagued him.

Part of me worried that I would be unable to chase away the ghosts. Ghosts of old enemies and old friends.

I laid a hand on his brow, "Shhhh, it's alright." I whispered, praying ferverantly that he would hear and understand.

He continued to move restlessly under the covers, murmuring phrases I only half-understood. It was so frustrating to be unable to banish those haunting images for good. I gently grasped his arms and whispered his name, trying to draw him into consciousness. Or at least draw him away enough to soothe him into a peaceful sleep.

I'd rather the latter, since I knew how uncomfortable it was to wake from the grips of a nightmare. Even though I would rather he woke me than allow the nightmare to continue.

To my relief, he gradually calmed down and I sat beside him, pondering quietly. It was no easy thing to battle old ghosts. I wished I could spare him that battle.

The next day, I awoke in a soft morning light to the pleasant sound of chirping birds.


	22. Bothered

I sighed with relief as we left scotland yard's offices and headed for home. After many days of a trying case, we had finally managed to land all but one of a dangerous gang in jail. We strolled, more out of exhaustion than contentment. Holmes asked me if he should call a cab, but I shook my head. "Not unless you want to, this is probably one of the last warm days."

Holmes nodded and we rounded the corner. My eyes alighted on a bookshop nearby that had a book I wanted on display. Holmes caught my look and steered me towards the store. "Go ahead and look." He urged me.

I was glad for the opportunity and started to peruse the shelves. I found a couple books that interested me and I flipped through them. I glanced up at my companion to see that he was still on two feet (when he'd last slept I had no idea). I found he was smiling at a young girl who was playing peek-a-boo with him from behind a shelf. Her mother chastised the girl when she giggled loudly.

Hurrying up so Holmes could get back and eat and sleep, I went over to the clerk and smiled as he bid me a good day. When I rejoined Holmes, he was looking bothered.


	23. Bullets

I was happy to let Watson browse the shop for a little while before we returned home. I was glancing at the shelves, not really expecting to find anything of interest. I heard a giggle and looked over to see a girl peeking out at me from behind a shelf.

When she saw I had seen her, she ducked behind it, giggling. I looked back at the shelf, trying to concentrate on the titles, but I heard another giggle and looked over again to see the child.

I couldn't hide my smile as she hid and snickered.

Her mother turned around and pinched the girl reproachingly and she ducked her head. As she followed her mother out of the store, she turned to wave at me. As I smiled back at her, I noticed in the reflection of the store window a man was standing behind me, watching me closely. I heard Watson approach, his books under his arm, but I continued to stare at the man, wondering if he was friend or foe.

He reached into his jacket and time seemed to freeze. I watched the movement of his jacket as he began to withdraw his hand. The long cylindrical outline led to only one conclusion.

Turning, I knocked Watson to the floor, just in time to avoid the bullets.

**Here's a challenge to anyone who feels up to it: write a one-shot about Holmes assuming someone has evil intentions (pulling a gun or whatever) and he reacts very conspicuously (knocking Watson to the ground, yelling, hitting the suspect, etc) and its really nothing. I'll probably do this eventually, but I would like to see what someone else does with this idea too. Please PM me to let me know your trying it so I can read it!**


	24. Bills

I shook my head in absolute disagreement.

"Holmes, there is no way..." I said.

"I'm telling you Watson, that women has a gun in her purse."

"It's lipstick Holmes." I said. "You've been reading too much sensational literature."

He looked at me incredulously. "You know I never read any of that ridiculous waste of ink." His eyes turned back to the young maiden, who was clutching a purse and giggling with her friend who kept shooting looks at my companion. Finally, the one with the supposed gun in her purse put her hands on her hips and said something that made her friend stick out her chin defiantly.

Then the friend started to come towards us. She stopped about a foot in front of us and folded her arms over her chest.

"Sir, my friend would like to know what you find so compelling about her..." The girl broke out in giggles before she could finish

I watched my friend rise purposefully when most people would have turned crimson and stride over to the other young lady who began to get a look of horror on her face as she saw Holmes marching to her.

I stayed seated on the bench and watched the world's most arrogant detective snatch the purse, reach inside and pull out a rolled wad of bills.

**For those of you who don't know (who don't read my 'Deductions' series), I've posed a challenge for you to have Holmes make an incorrect deduction about someone's intentions (such as pulling a gun, poisoning, etc.) and reacting conspicuously and mistakenly. Deb Zorski was the first to respond to this, nice job! **


	25. Believed

After I had done it, a terrible sense of guilt rose up in me. I had taken advantage of him in a way I could never excuse. It was wrong, it was cruel. I was scared to even ask for forgiveness since it would mean revealing my crime to him.

How would he take it? Would he forgive me and be able to trust me ever again? Why should he? When obviously that trust was misplaced when he gave it to me.

How could I not reveal it though? My conscience is eating away at me and I can hardly look at him without the feelings of guilt and regret washing over me like a tidal wave. It was unfair! How could I do such a terrible thing?

It is not in my nature to be a criminal, even if I do ignore the law when it suits me. But this isn't a legal matter. It is a moral one. And to betray a friend is just as much of a crime as murdering him.

I could not sleep, I gave up even trying. I had to talk to him, but I would grant him a good night's sleep before I disturbed him.

I lied to my boswell, my best and only friend, and he, in his trusting nature, had believed.


	26. Baffled

When I came down to breakfast the next day, I noticed he was disgruntled. He was layed on the couch in a very undignified manner and gazing at the window, lost in thought.

He looked exhausted, and I wondered what on earth was troubling him. He was not engaged in a case that I knew about, and he didn't seem to be in a bad mood, just a troubled one.

He seemed on edge, like he was some sort of criminal awaiting his capture. Which was of course ridiculous. He was on the side of justice.

I tried my best to placate him with small talk. When I mention the gloomy wheather he was just nodded. When I mentioned how good breakfast was he sighed. When I asked him if he wanted me to fix him a plate he whimpered.

I went to his side. "Good heavens Holmes! Are you ill?" I asked, seriously concerned for his well being.

He started to laugh. I wondered if he had lost his mind or if it was being influenced by the drugs again. I shook him. "Holmes are you alright?" I asked, raising my voice a little because of fear.

"My dear Watson, I do not deserve your kindness." He said.

"Holmes, what on earth are you talking about?" I asked, completely baffled.


	27. Breakfast

"Watson I lied to you last night."

"Lied to me?"

"I have completely betrayed your trust."

"Is that what's bothering you?" I asked, amazed. "Holmes, I'm not mad at you."

"You should be! I had no reason to lie and I did- to you of all people."

"Holmes, its of no consequence to me if you had a visitor last night. If you would prefer me to stay out of the cases-"

"No!" Holmes surprised me with how high and vehement his protest was. He gripped me by the shoulders and I put a reassuring hand on his arm.

"Then I'll stay, honestly Holmes I'm not upset. I forgive you." I said.

"The man was here to kill me."

"My God Holmes!" I said, concern flooding back to me. "Are you alright?"

"Yes."

"Why didn't you tell me?" I asked.

"Because I didn't want to leave."

"Leave?"

"Watson, my line of work often brings me in very close contact with danger. I don't want to put you in harms way, but I don't want you to leave either."

"Holmes, I was in mortal peril many times in Afghanistan. I'm not about to leave a friend because of that. I will stay, but please, let me know if something like that happens again?"

"Thank you." Holmes said.

"Now, how about some breakfast?"

**No idea why this doubled- fixed now though- thx for letting me know!**


	28. Brandy

** Another story you can take from either Holmes or Watson's perspective. Read it both ways and see what you think. **

He dropped down wearily, the day's events had taken more out of him then he had first expected. He had the sensation of being watched. He turned around to look, but his back suddenly ached and he sucked in air and gripped the chair arm. Pain made his vision blur and he closed his eyes, suddenly dizzy.

He felt a hand gently push him back into his seat. A blanket was draped over him and a glass placed in his hand. When the pain had subsided, he was unsurprised to see who had been watching him. He smiled weakly and took a sip of the brandy.

"You need to rest." Said his companion.

"I'm all right."

"Really?" The voice was dripping with sarcasim.

He sighed, knowing that arguing was useless.

"I speak only as your friend." The other said.

"I know."

"Then why don't you take my advise?" The voice sharpened.

He fell silent, closing his eyes and resting. So quickly did he fall asleep that he did not notice when he friend caught the glass before it fell from his limp fingers and the gas turned up to keep him warm. He also did not notice the smile on his friend's lips as his friend decided it had been a very good idea to add a sedative to the brandy.


	29. Broke

**Everyone seems to like the 'ambiguity' (nice word Raven!) of the two 221B's I've posted that can be read from either POV. I have decided to attempt a few more. Anyone who posts a similar story please let me know!**

The rain dribbled softly on our backs and dripped onto the hard pavement of the street. The dark night was momentarily lit by a flash of lightning. I looked up, wishing the skies were friendlier tonight.

He was leaning heavily on me by the time we returned to Baker Street. He was undoubtably ill with something. After removing his soaking outer-garments and my own, I helped him laborously up the stairs and tried my best to make him comfortable on the settee.

"Can you hear me old fellow?" I asked softly, trying to warm him up by rubbing his shoulders.

He moaned in response and I quickly went to fetch blankets. While turning up the gas, I was surprised to hear a quiet knock on the door.

"Mrs. Hudson, what are you doing up this late?"

"Shall I fetch tea?" She asked, giving me a knowing look.

"I would be very grateful."

"I'll be back in a moment."

I heard my name called from the settee and turned back to my friend. He looked tired, but far more awake then he had been when we were walking back.

"Are you alright?" I asked.

"Yes. You came to find me?" He said, though it was clearly an inquiry.

"Of course." I said. "I couldn't leave you out there after the storm broke."


	30. Bed

**Another 'either POV' chappie. I love writing these! I'm thinking of putting all these chapters in their own story. **

I walked quietly back into the room, trying not to disturb him. He was sleeping soundly now, after the ravaging fever had broken around five in the morning. I had stayed by his side, making him as comfortable as I could, for the two days he had been ill. I'd only had a seemingly short two-hour nap the day before.

Checking his forehead by force of habit, I was grateful to find the fever had not returned. He seemed to finally be on his way to a recovery though he was pale – the fever had taken its toll, and so had the lack of food he had. I dropped into the chair beside his bed and accidentally banged my elbow on his nightstand.

To my frustration I noticed my friends eyelids flicker and he stirred, my clumsiness having woken him from his much-needed rest. He whispered my name weakly and his hand gripped the arm I had banged. It throbbed, but the pain dulled quickly.

"I knew you'd be here." He said in a feeble voice.

"I'm not going anywhere, go to sleep." I commanded gently.

Tired as he was, he gave no argument. He closed his eyes and was asleep within moments. I quietly sat next to him, not intending to move until he was out of bed.


	31. Belongings

**Back to the usual 'defined POV' stories that I now have trouble writing… **

It was one of those boring, caseless, and wet Sunday afternoons that I came to expect at least six times a year. I rarely went out on those days, since the rain made it a decidedly unhappy affair, so six Sundays out of every fifty-two were spent either listening to the agony of the violin bow scrapping out tuneless dirges or smelling chemicals that completely took away my appetite.

But this Sunday I could not bare it.

Holmes was up when I got up to the soft sounds of rain hitting the rooftop. I dressed casually, not expecting to go out, but wanting to look decent all the same. I came downstairs, slower then normal because my leg was cramped, and fell upon breakfast with zeal. His breakfast was hardly touched and the morning paper was in disarray, though I managed to find the front page and read the headline "Great Blizzard Strikes America."

Holmes was sitting on the settee in his rumpled dressing gown with his hair going in all directions.

"Holmes?"

"Hm?"

"I just want you to understand something." I said very clearly and adopting the most serious face I could.

"What's that Watson?" He asked, looking over at me.

"If I hear one poor violin note or smell one chemical," I said, "I will defenestrate all your belongings."

**Look up defenestrate if you don't know it. This was a challenge from my English teacher when defenestrate was the word of the day on Dictonary dot com. **


	32. Blankly

**If I had more muse, I'd make a series with this. As it is, MITM is taking up a lot of my time and I have little muse. This is, again, in 'either POV' structure, so anyone who wants to use this in a story, let me know. **

It was hard to recall the details of the last encounter with the gang. We had charged in to where they were hiding bravely, but using trickery and sheer numbers we were beaten badly. Fortunately Lestrade arrived and his constables overpowered the criminals, saving our lives. The case had gone terribly wrong, and now one of us was in the hospital with a bad head injury and I had my arm in a sling after breaking it in two places.

I had stayed by his side all the hours of the day the hospital permitted, sleeping and eating scarcely in the time I was not. The criminals responsible for our injuries were in prison awaiting a trial, and though I could guess the outcome would be against them, my heart was not at rest.

It had been four days. Four long and almost unbearable days. The doctors claimed he was doing well for such a bad injury but I needed him to wake up. I needed to hear his voice and see him smile. I needed to know that everything would be okay.

I looked over and noticed his eyes flicker, then fix on me. I was so glad I forgot to breathe.

My heart plummeted when he spoke. "Who are you?" He asked with some difficulty, looking at me blankly.


	33. boutade

I looked up as a constable led two gentlemen into the office. It was a singular burglary and it figured that Holmes would have interest in the affair. I straightened up, walked over and addressed the pair.

"Mr. Holmes, doctor." I said, nodding at each in turn. I forced myself to be polite. It wasn't them I was mad at, but rather the case.

"Lestrade I-" Holmes began.

"Let me guess Mr. Holmes, you have an interest in the case, or in our client Mr. Stevens, or perhaps you know the thief and the motive just by looking at this whole scene?" Frustration laced the words with a sharper point then I should've spoken with.

Holmes' face told me with a single look that I had seriously offended him.

"Lestrade you have been an inspector for some time, no doubt you've come to think of me in much of the same way as many of your colleagues do. However, when all I am attempting to do is return the pair of gloves you so forgetfully left two nights ago I would hope you could be civil, if not grateful!"

Holmes curtly passed me the gloves and left before I could find words to say what was on my mind. I left to repair the damage I had caused with my boutade.


	34. Behind

His steps were long and heavy, showing his frustration at the whole matter very clearly. I followed him, but didn't know what to say. Lestrade was obviously just having a bad day, but now that Holmes felt slighted there was little chance that anything I could do to try to remedy the situation would be met with any success.

I sighed, wishing we hadn't noticed Lestrade in the paper for that theft case and we hadn't decided to return the gloves that he'd left.

"Watson, you know Lestrade and the various signs of stress or other reasons for such an outburst, what do you suppose could be bothering him?" Holmes asked. I was surprised by the question. Maybe I had misread the signs of frustration on my friend. Was the frustration really about what was bothering Lestrade, rather then Lestrade being bothersome? I chose my words carefully, trying to remain neutral.

"I would say it is the case Holmes, it did mention in the Strand that this looked to be a very difficult case to unravel." I replied, trying to keep up with him. He slowed his pace.

"But he doesn't welcome my help in the matter?" Holmes asked.

"Perhaps he hates feeling incompetent." I suggested. Holmes was a brilliant detective who easily made others feel neophytic in comparison.

"You've got it doctor," said a firmilar voice from behind.


	35. Blood

When Lestrade came up, I turned in the hope that we could end this tension. "Lestrade, I don't... I don't mean to make you feel bad about yourself. I meant to help you, while enjoying the pleasure I get from solving cases."

"I shouldn't have taken such offense Holmes, but the truth is you are better then me. I accept that, but I want to try a case on my own without getting all the answers from you." Lestrade said evenly.

"I just want to help." I said, looking down at the pavement.

"I could use it." Lestrade said, causing me to look up again. "I hate to admit it, but I'm not keen enough to solve this case."

"Yes you are!" I retorted ferverantly. "You may need a little guidance, but you can solve it."

"Would you be willing to help me? After my horrible display back there?" Lestrade asked. It was his turn to study the pavement. "I really am sorry."

"Of course, I'll try to interfere as little as possible and let your ever-growing skills do the work." I said, trying to be encouraging.

"I'd be very grateful." Lestrade said, his face breaking into a grin.

We started to stroll back together and laughed when we heard Watson's candid comment. "So gentlemen _can_ solve problems without spilling blood."

**This is dedicated to so many of the wonderful ppl here on fanfic that keep me going and trying, even when I want to quit: **

**KCS, Medcat, xravenscroft, C.H. Baker, Ewanluvr4Ever, Eemilyvr1, explosivecarrieroftea, Gemini Spirit, Lolanthe, Othrilis, Elizabeth Snow 17, han8661, Holzaro, hyperteenager24, Pui30246, Twisted Midnight Dreams, Way Walker, Barbossa's Monkey, Hikari Fighter, Mysticlight Lite, Wirral Bagpuss, Adidasandpie, Anawey, Fiorella 2, FoggyKnight, Pebbles66, and aragonite. **

**Thanks to each and every one of you. I could not have stuck with so much for so long without your kind support. **


	36. Blackness

The blows to the back of my head made me crumple onto my stomach yet again. I felt blood run down my temples, dripping onto the sandy shoreline. The shipyard was eerily quiet, only the sounds of our struggles splitting the night.

I prayed Mycroft had sent for the police. I'd written to ask him to find Gregson, but that seemed like hours ago.

I struggled back up to my knees, catching and holding the stick that was hitting me.

"Holmes." Watson whispered. He was lying on the sand a few feet away; the beating they had given him weakened him extremely. He had been unconscious when they'd first started beating me, now he fearfully stared at me.

"It'll be alright." I mouthed. My bleeding lip stung when I moved it.

I was distracted long enough to fall prey to a cane swung at my lower back. With a sharp rap it hit, causing me to lose my grip on the stick- that promptly hit my jaw.

I was on the ground for several seconds, checking my waning strength. Watson was arguing futilely with our antagonists, who laughed at him.

This had to end! I rose to my knees in a final attempt and was promptly pistol-wiped by one of them. Dizzy and unable to stay awake, I fell into blackness.

**This goes out to Demon Shuriken, she asked for a certain unglorified character to become a hero.**


	37. Beam

I yelled furiously as Holmes crashed to the ground. When he did not stir I began to worry. Unbidden all the possibile results of head injuries came to me, causing me to panic.

I knew I was too weak to put up a fight. As the men stood laughing and jeering I tried to wriggle closer to Holmes, trying to locate a pulse.

Suddenly I heard a shot ring out and one of the men fell. Unaware of who had shot him I tried to shield him the best I could, while trying to see what was happening. The four remaining men were also looking around wildly, fearing the same fate.

A large black shadow appeared behind one of the men and threw an arm around the man's neck. The other three rushed in to help, but the shadow used the man as a shield, deflecting the cane and stick with his body. Throwing the man at the others, he sent three crashing down. The one left standing aimed a pistol, but he was too slow. The shadowy figure grabbed the mans arms and pointed the gun upwards as it fired. I stared in surprise as our savior whirled away and stood pointing his gun at all of the villians.

There was Mycroft, revealed as he stood in the moonlight's beam.

**There, Mycroft kicked some butt. Should I add more or leave it as is? **


	38. Bullets II

He was in a somber mood for months afterward. Many mourned for the expected three-month period, but he stubbornly wore the black. He watched the funeral, moving him and I around to watch the procession from more than one spot.

He was in a bad mood already from a lack of cases, but this drove him into habits that shocked me as a medical man and worried me as his friend. I visited him often, trying to help him in whatever way I could. Our conversations ran thus:

"Holmes? Anything you need?"

"No."

I made little progress in the first few months, but he never asked me to leave, so I took that to mean that my company was enough. I never failed to ring for two suppers, though his usually went to waste. I could sometimes convince him to play for me, but the notes were melancholy.

One day though, I arrived to find him dressed for the first time for months, though still in black. He had had a few small cases come his way and I hope this to mean he was finally done mourning.

For five long months he had eaten little, did little, and was very quiet. All to mourn for the loss of the women whose initials he had put in the wall with bullets.

**Yea, bad week so far, this really reflects the mood I'm in. **


	39. Backbone

**My own version of a prompt I gave to Demon Shuriken, dialogue-only. There are three characters, so it gets a little confusing. Just try reading it twice.**

"You go first doctor."

"Must I Holmes?"

"Why him?"

"You can go first Lestrade."

"I told you to Watson."

"Let me Holmes."

"No Lestrade. Watson is going to."

"Fine, I'll do it, but if I get hurt it'll be on your conscience."

"He doesn't have one Doctor."

"Very funny you two. Watson, stop dawdling."

"I'm going, Holmes, I'm going."

"Holmes, maybe this isn't such a good idea."

"Nonsense, he can do it."

"I have faith in him, but the plan is … risky."

"It'll work, stop fidgeting."

"Look, he's coming back. You alright doctor?"

"Shhh!"

"I did it, here they come."

"It is Blackstone!"

"Great, now we should call Scotland Yard."

"Who needs them?"

"Watch it Holmes."

"Nevermind Lestrade, now it's your turn."

"What? Why ring the bell again?"

"So this time when he opens the door I can shoot him."

"What if you accidentally hit me?"

"Run after you ring the bell!"

"Holmes, please. I'll be the one to shoot Lestrade."

"I trust your aim more."

"I trust his more too, now hurry up Lestrade."

"Holmes, why not just wait until he passes a window?"

"He's too smart to be that foolish."

"Yet you have us out here in the middle of the night ringing doorbells to catch a murderer."

"Lestrade, would you just go? Come on, have some backbone."


	40. Bravery

**Continuation of previous. Now there is communication but no dialogue. **

We sat in 221B and I watched at my companions exchange meaningful looks. I knew one of them was eventually going to press the question: why I'd risked their lives while I stayed safely stowed behind a banister across the street from the murderer's hideout.

I told them to tell me what was bothering them and they finally asked their questions. To the first, the order I made them go, I pointed out Watson's limp and said that the murderer was unlikely to be on guard the first time it happened. I knew Lestrade was fast and able to dodge the bullets if the second time the murder decided to shoot.

They were still surprised by my methods. I reminded them that the unexpected is the best way to take an opponent by surprise. Watson's aim had been true. A shot to the leg had disabled Blackstone and we'd taken him into custody. After a stop at Scotland Yard, Lestrade had accepted Watson's offer of a late night supper, which Mrs. Hudson was kind enough to warm up for us.

I was quick to assure them that if I had suspected Blackstone would kill them that I would have gone alone, to which they hastily made me promise never to risk my life alone.

I thanked them both for their bravery.

**Personally, I liked Demon Shuriken's version of my prompt better. Go read hers. **


	41. Back II

I was staring at our unusual visitor with a little worry, which the owner did noting to ease when he warned me that it might bite. I had had an aversion to snakes since the Roylott case and now one was in our rooms.

"Relax Watson, come sit over here." Holmes said, indicating the chair on the other side of the table. "Do not let go of that creature." He warned our guest.

"Its not like it's a poisonous one." Our guest protested.

"Does it matter?" I asked.

"Now, what do you need?" Holmes asked. I opened up to a fresh page in my journal to take notes, but realized I'd left my pen on the other side. Holmes quickly moved to grab it for me, but while he leaned over the table to fetch it and the snake struck out.

"Are you alright Holmes?" I rose, worried.

"It didn't get me Watson."

Suddenly, our landlady entered with tea and once she caught sight of the snake she raised her hands to her mouth and shrieked, dropping the tray.

"Relax, Mrs. Hudson, he has a grip on it." Holmes said. We both rushed to help her clean up and she swallowed nervously.

"Its-s n-not poisonous?" She asked.

"No, ma'am." Our guest said. "You can tell by the patterns on 'is back."


	42. Bothered II

Watson looked up as I entered the sitting room, and then back at his newspaper. I was unused to his detached manner and made an attempt at a pleasant conversation.

"I hope you didn't mind my absence this morning." I said as I went into my bedroom.

"I did wonder about your whereabouts."

"The most delicious little matter turned up at a coffee shop this morning. I could hardly believe you slept through the manager's tirade." I said, coming into the sitting room.

"And you didn't bother to wake me." Watson said, still hiding behind his newspaper.

"Do you wish I had? I'm sorry, I assumed because you were late last night you wouldn't want to be bothered."

"It's no bother going with you Holmes." Watson said.

"My dear Watson, you are cross, and I perceive it does not have to do entirely with me." I said.

"Well maybe you should stop deducing!" Watson snapped.

I was surprised, but I did not comment on Watson's outburst. Instead, I sat down, waiting for my Boswell to be open with me.

Minutes ticked on into hours and soon night had fallen. I had sent Mrs. Hudson away when she came to inform me the manager wanted a word. We sat quietly, but I was becoming increasingly impatient to know why Watson was bothered.


	43. Box

**Continuation of last**

I was unfairly rude to him, and regardless that I was almost convinced he had no feelings to injure, I still felt bad.

It was December 24, and thanks to Holmes's tirade about Christmas, there was not a tree, ornament, or decoration in sight. I didn't want to start a row by arguing with him, so I simply accepted his wishes. I wasn't feeling the greatest, the cold making my leg stiff and giving me a slight cough.

Christmas was a more joyous occasion when I had been serving in the army. We would decorate as best we could and gather to sing some carols. I remembered lying in the hospital, shortly after I started recovering from my wound, thinking about what I would never take for granted anymore. Christmas was one of those things, and here I was, stuck with the biggest Scrooge in all of London.

At least it was peaceful. He was content and I could faintly hear the carolers in the street. I could sacrifice one year for Holmes, who had been kind enough to put up with my coughing day and night. Maybe next year I would try to gain some rights for a tree or something.

There was one tradition I couldn't give up though, and on Holmes's bed I'd placed a neatly wrapped box.

**Again, another Christmas fic I couldn't wait to post. Besides, if I did wait I'd probably forget and it would be posted in Jan. I don't know if I'll continue, even though I have half of another chapter started. **


	44. Biscuits

_Continuation..._

"Holmes? I think I'll retire." Watson said. He coughed as he stood up and I noticed how painful it sounded. Was that what was bothering him?

"Are you alright?" I asked, hoping he might be honest with me.

"Fine, just tired." Watson said.

"Do you need another blanket?"

He turned, giving me a curious look. "No Holmes, I'm fine." He said, as he made his way out of the sitting room and up to his room.

I was confused. He was still bothered by something, but whatever it had been, it wasn't bothering him quite as bad as before. Was he just disturbed by his cough or the noise outside?

Mrs. Hudson came up, bringing a plate of cookies with her. I looked at them with a raised eyebrow, wondering why on earth she'd brought them. They were gingerbread, cut into shapes.

"Where is the doctor?" She asked.

"His room." I said. Then I wondered if maybe she knew something I didn't. If she was bringing him cookies, she must know something was bothering him. "Mrs. Hudson?"

She returned promptly, giving me a look. "Mr. Holmes I want to get these up to the doctor while their warm. He was so disappointed when you declared Christmas an unnecessary bother. I thought he might be cheered up with a few gingerbread biscuits."

**Note: Gingerbread is a very popular British Christmas treat. Cookie cutters started circulating in 1871, so I figure Mrs. Hudson would have some by 1881. Technically, they're called gingerbread biscuits instead of cookies, but Holmes isn't smart enough to know the difference. **


	45. Brightly II

_More continuing..._

I was just beginning to have a pleasant dream when the door to my room opened and I woke up. I looked over in surprise to see Holmes.

"There had better be a fire." I said, a little grumpy about being roused.

"There is, downstairs. Come down in the sitting room please?" Holmes begged me.

I was mystified by his demeanor and got up, putting on my dressing gown and slippers before following him down.

If there really were a fire, wouldn't he be a little more agitated? And why weren't we going to rouse Mrs. Hudson? I worried that Mrs. Hudson might make good on her teasing threats to evict Holmes if he had actually caused a fire.

I put my hand on the railing, only to jump when I touched something prickly. From the light streaming in from the sitting room, I could see a garland was woven around the banister. It hadn't been there when I had gone to bed. Holmes must have realized it, since he was avoiding the railing.

"Holmes?" I called, curiosity pricking at me. Hadn't Mrs. Hudson's decorating made him mad?

He was in front of the sitting room door and beckoned me forward. I came obediently and he swung open the door, revealing a very much-changed room. It wasn't burning, but glowing brightly.


	46. Blunder

_Continuation continues_

"Holmes!" Watson breathed, staring at the room in great surprise. Mrs. Hudson and I had put up a small tree and hung some decorations on it. Other ornaments were dangling from various places in the room. A large ribbon was strung on the mantle, and there was a wreath hung in the middle.

Mrs. Hudson was standing off to one side, smiling at Watson's face. Her plate of cookies and a pitcher of milk were on the table, along with a lit candlabrum with three white candles.

It wasn't the greatest, but for a quick job, it looked good. The expression on Watson's face was priceless.

I could tell Watson was impressed; he walked over to the tree, limping slightly, and gently touched a silver orb hanging from its branches. His face held pure joy and he took another breath and looked around the room. He paused to cough and I quickly went over to steer him into a chair and throw a blanket over him.

"Did you get your present?" He asked me, still staring in awe at the room.

"My… my present?" I asked, confused. I was suddenly ashamed. Watson had blessed me even when he had been disappointed about my feelings about the holiday. I had done nothing for him in return. I had made a serious blunder.


	47. Bite

_Continuation of previous_

"In your room." I said, turning in my seat to watch him go look. He opened his door and there it was, a rectangular parcel sitting on the bed, right where I had left it.

"Go on, open it." I prompted.

"Should I?" He asked. "I didn't get you anything." He looked very ashamed, but I didn't care, I took more joy in seeing him open the gift I had gotten him than opening one of my own.

"It's fine Holmes, just open it." I insisted. He slowly ripped the package to reveal the large collection of notes on criminal cases. I'd seen several others on his bookshelf, but this was new, and I saw his eyes brighten as he skimmed over the list of cases eagerly.

"Watson, how can I ever thank you?" Holmes asked.

"This has been enough." I replied, looking around the room once more. My eyes landed on the plate of gingerbread and I made to stand up and get one.

"I'll get it." Holmes said quickly, pushing me back in my seat and rushing to grab the plate. He passed it to me, letting me pick the one I wanted, and poured me a glass of milk. I picked a tree-shaped cookie and tasted it.

"Mrs. Hudson, these are delicious." I said, savoring each delicious bite.


	48. Browse

_Continuing..._

Watson had eventually drifted to sleep and I had left the next morning to go hunting for a gift. I knew very few shops would be open, but I knew so many of the shopkeepers that I knew right where to head.

Mr. Wood was a widower and up in years, but he still kept the small goods shop that sold a wide variety. I knew the man would be in his small apartment above the shop and knocked loudly. When I got no reply, I found a small pebbled that I chucked at his upstairs window. He appeared momentarily, peering down at me. He held up a finger to signal that I wait. When he opened the door he greeted me with a smile.

"Well, well, working on Christmas. I suppose that's no surprise." Mr. Wood said, letting me in.

"Actually, I came for a last-minute gift." I replied.

"Oh, who for? Have your eye on some lady Mr. Holmes?" Mr. Wood teased, giving me a toothy grin.

"It's for my friend actually, the one I got lodgings with." I explained. I hadn't seen the shopkeeper in awhile, but I had told him of my new companion.

"Well, what were you thinking?" He asked, seeming ready to help me.

I had no idea. "Do you mind if I just browse?"


	49. Been II

LAST ONE! HALLELUJAH!

I left the shop with a wrapped parcel under my arm, courtesy of Mr. Wood. I had let him keep the generous amount of change. I walked home, feeling very happy. I was soon at my own door, chilled from the snow.

I walked inside and saw Mrs. Hudson taking up breakfast. I hurried to join Watson for the meal.

"Oh there you are, I wondered where you disappeared to." He said. His eyes fell on the package and he blushed.

"Do you want to open it before or after?" I asked.

"We can eat first."

"Oh come on Watson, be selfish for one minute, open it!" I said, passing it to him.

A bright gleam came into his eyes and he smiled as he ripped open the package.

When he saw what it was he smiled even wider.

"Holmes it's wonderful!"

"Yes, I hoped so. Now for some breakfast." I said, sitting down.

"Holmes, this is the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me." Watson said.

"Oh come, surely you've gotten better gifts!" I exclaimed.

"No, I mean, you've just decorated and exchanged gifts for a holiday that you claimed not all that long ago to be an irritation."

"Well, Watson, my dear friend. Sometimes opinions change, when you have the right person show you how wrong you've been."

**Yea, like I said, should have been posted at Christmas, but you can come back and read it again in Dec. **


	50. Besides

I was lying in my room, trying to sleep, when a noise in the hallway woke me up. Curious and cautious, I got out of bed and crept to the door of my room. I quietly snuck up behind a shadowy figure that was entering the sitting room and put my hand over the person's mouth.

I realized who it was a second too late. Far too used to living alone, I had forgotten poor Watson. I was suddenly elbowed in the ribs and kicked in the leg. _Retired_ army surgeon indeed! I drew back with a groan and heard a surprised gasp from the man, who had turned to face me.

"Holmes? Why are you sneaking around?"

"I could as you the same question."

"I couldn't sleep." The man confessed. I noticed him wince and realized my actions had probably jarred his injuries.

"I'm sorry. Neither could I." I said. "Come sit down."

We later shared a good laugh over that incident, and from then on we stayed up together in the sitting room on sleepless nights. I never could have imagined that the man I had just scared half to death would ever put up with me for as long as he did. But he did stay. He was as faithful as the seasons and doubly as kind besides.

**This is dedicated to all my faithful friends and readers here on FF. And especially Shuri. Thanks so much for all your feedback, it's very appreciated. **


	51. Brown

He was preparing to leave, in a hurry, as always. I was shaving in the bathroom when Holmes came in, standing behind me and looking over me into the mirror.

"Do you think I should make the disguise more elaborate?" He asked, adjusting his collar. He had traded his usually sharp attire for an old patched jacket and made a few minor adjustments to his face.

"I don't know. If he only caught a glimpse of you that should be enough."

"Would it fool you?"

"No," I admitted.

He grimaced and turned to leave, but his elbow hit my shoulder and I cut myself. I swore quietly under my breath as I reached for a towel. Holmes beat me to it and pressed it to my face.

"A thousand apologies, dear Watson, I should have been more careful," He said.

"It's just a scratch." It stung, but wasn't deep. I held the towel and he let go, but he still stood there.

"Go, get ready," I said. I followed him into the sitting room and he dug through his trunk. He held up two wigs.

"The gray or the light brown?"

The gray would make him look too old; I already spied gray flecks among his dark hair. I refused to believe we were growing old. "I like the light brown."


	52. Brannigan

**Okay, the word of the day on dictionary dot com began with 'b'. I can't pass up the opportunity to use it.**

I was sitting across from Holmes as we surveyed the tavern. Holmes was watching one table with great interest. I turned to look, using my peripheral vision to avoid making them think I was staring.

"Oh look at him Watson, he's no more than a cowardly fool." Holmes said, quite loudly. Of course, the man in question turned to see who had spoken. When he saw Holmes staring at him, he drew the inevitable conclusion that Holmes was talking about him.

He stood up and stormed over, raising one fist. Holmes remained calmly seated until the last possible second when he ducked the blow and sent the man stumbling backwards with a punch to the stomach. Since no one else got involved I stayed out of it, but stood up in case we had to leave quickly.

Holmes overpowered the man and led him towards the door, gesturing to me to follow. He smiled as we reached the street.

"How would you like to earn a guinea?" Holmes asked.

"Alright." The man said, a little wary.

"Tell me what happened here two nights ago."

Holmes got his information and we headed for home. He read the question in my eyes and explained that the fight had ensure no one would think we were investigating.

I sighed. "Holmes, you and your brannigans!"

**A brannigan is a brawl.**


	53. Benevolence

**Triple Challenge! This is a 221B poem that switches between POVs, but can be read starting with either Holmes or Watson. Lovely right? Too much time on my hands… **

I am startled awake with his panicked cry

His soft sobs reach me as I rise

Once again old ghosts haunt his sleeping

He needs me there to comfort his weeping

I make for the steps, he calls out once more

I see his face twisted in distress as I open his door

I move to his beside, a hand on his shoulder

When he shrinks away the night grows colder

I whisper his name, but he doesn't seem to hear

And my shaking doesn't wake him from his fear

* * *

It's a desperate pursuit that I have seen before

But I cannot remember what the chase was for

The man, our quarry, is not far ahead

He's tried several tricks wanting us falsely led

But we are drawing near and he won't get away

Suddenly he turns and fires; darkness covers day

I don't feel pain, but hear my companion fall

I hurry over, wishing I could undo it all

Time stands still, but his life fades fast

I cannot breath or move as I hear his final gasps

* * *

I resort to water and he awakes; I offer an open ear

As he admits the reason for his distress and fear.

* * *

He tells me to sleep and protests don't mar my obedience

But before I drift I'm grateful for his benevolence


	54. Blur

**I was going through old files in search of a 221B I haven't posted yet, and came across this. It seems like I intended to make it into a story, but I don't remember it. **

Today started as many days with Holmes start- abruptly. I was rushed through a short breakfast and into a carriage, which whisked us through London. As usual, we boarded a train just as it was taking off, and I nearly fell trying to get on the blasted thing.

Holmes glanced at me sympathetically as we found an empty compartment. "So sorry, I hope I was not the cause of your leg becoming stiff again." He said. As usual, he was able to perceive everything about me.

"My leg is fine."

"Watson, it nearly gave out on you back there." He retorted.

"Since you're so in the mood to talk you could explain why you've dragged me out here at a quarter before six?"

"I thought we could do with a little trip to Whitstable." Holmes said with a sly smile. I had seen that smile often enough to know what implied.

"You have a case rather."

"How did you guess?" Holmes pressed.

"Holmes, you are never in this good of a mood unless you are on a case." I replied. We fell silent and I watched the large city of London disappear into trees and open fields, lightly dusting with frost. We were all grateful winter was late. Eventually, I was lulled to sleep as the countryside passed in a blur.


	55. Balusters

We were coming home one afternoon from a luncheon and going upstairs to the sitting room when Mrs. Hudson came up to the stairs.

"Mr. Holmes? This was left for you." Mrs. Hudson said, handing up an envelope. Holmes knelt and stuck his arm through the balustrade to get the note and thanked Mrs. Hudson. I continued up the stairs and heard Mrs. Hudson walk away.

I did not hear Holmes following.

I turned around to see him look at his arm with narrowed eyes. "Coming Holmes?"

"Just a moment." He said, reaching over the rail with his other hand to grab the letter and put it into his pocket. I waited for him, beginning to guess at what had happened.

He tried to pull his arm through, twisting it so it would fit, to no avail.

"Holmes? You're stuck aren't you?" I asked, smiling.

He sent me such a dumbfounded look that I took pity on him. I went over to examine the problem and found that he had put his arm through up to his elbow and he could not twist just right to get it loose. There was also the added difficulty of the stairs.

After a long and tiring battle involving cold water, lotion, and a makeshift wedge, Holmes would never again stick his arm between balusters.

**Random 'b' word, but once I saw it I knew precisely what I was going to write. Originally, it was going to be Lestrade who got stuck, but I tortured him enough in another update. **


	56. Battles

I had hardly been able to sleep at all several nights in a row due to a never ending cold. I was exhausted, but feeling better and was hoping that tonight I might actually sleep.  
Obviously, the men downstairs had a different idea. They were most likely drunk, and were being very loud and obnoxious. Baker Street resonated with their laughter and jeers and I felt a headache looming. This lasted about twenty minutes before I threw my arm over my eyes and groaned.

I heard Holmes vacate his chair and stomp over to the window. He opened it forcefully and I looked over to see him bending and poking his head outside.

"If you do not desist with this intolerable behavior I shall call the police!" Holmes shouted.

I didn't quite catch what they replied, but when I saw Holmes turn bright red, I knew it had to be very insulting. I watched him leave the sitting room and heard him downstairs before he went outside. I heard cries of outrage from the men, than blissful silence. He came back into the room and sat down like nothing had happened.

When four men told the next constable that the man living at 221B had just thrown a pail of refuse on them, he wisely did not interfere in Holmes' battles.

**Well, unlike Holmes it was not drunks, but rather a rather untimely fire alarm that went off tonight that has kept me from sleep. I am more than a little piqued. No, there was no real fire, but I took my computer just in case. **


	57. Bromopnea

"That wasn't funny." Holmes said, sending me once again into a fit of laughter. By now I had tears streaming down my eyes.

"I… I'm so… sorry!" I said, trying to catch my breath from how hard I was laughing.

"Glad to see you are enjoying yourself." Holmes growled, staring angrily into the fire.

"You are just irritated that I could outwit you!" I protested.

"You did not outwit me! You played a terrible trick on me!" Holmes said.

"Oh really Holmes, you make to much of a trifle." I said, getting up to stoke the fire.

"A trifle! I missed a case for this!" Holmes exclaimed sounding terribly incensed. He sneezed and I looked back at him, giving him one of my best 'stern doctor' looks.

"You are getting sick, regardless of my earlier diagnosis." I argued.

"I could have at least had something to occupy my mind today rather than being kept indoors by your infernal – "

Holmes paused in his tirade as Mrs. Hudson brought in dinner. She set it on the table and sent me an exasperated look.

I raised my eyebrows in agreement and she departed.

I sat down to eat though Holmes didn't join me. "Honestly Holmes," I said around a mouthful of bread, "it's not like I expected you would look up bromopnea!"


	58. Barouche

Working with Holmes was like racing against time, and I can personally vouch for the fact that he beat it. When once the train we needed to catch was going to be missed, the tip of his cane against the hand of a clock gave us an extra few minutes. The stationmaster was appalled that he was off schedule, and gave Holmes and I free tickets.

There was also the time he lied about the time to Lestrade to keep him out with us longer, causing both him and I to be late. I was only late for an appointment that wasn't too important, but Lestrade was a quarter-hour late for dinner with his wife, who took a week to turn around.

Of course the man was also quite unstoppable, and when he set his mind to a task he would get there.

So when our driver fainted mid-drive, I was smugly thinking that for once the situation might have outwitted him. However, I forgot how reckless he could be also. He pulled the driver into the seat next to me and commenced to drive himself at a pace that was only meant for the racetrack.

I was terrified and tried to slow him down. After a particularly close call I began to get angry. "Holmes! You nearly hit that barouche!"

* * *

Inspired by Mrs. Pencil who challenged me to a speed 221B. Not exactly what you had in mind is it?

Also, its 3:20, understand my late night humor, or at least shake your head and review to tell me to go to bed.

Now would be a good time for that Watson Mrs. P...


	59. Backseat

Continuation of last. Don't know if it'll see a third, but I am inspired at the moment. I feel like Watson, only life's the driver...

* * *

He still didn't pause (did I really expect him to) and I was left to cling for dear life while trying to also make sure the driver was not thrown out by any of the sharp bumps or quick turns.

"Holmes you are going to get us killed!"

"Nonsense! I make a perfect driver!" Holmes shouted back. He sounded slightly indignant by my comment.  
"Holmes slow down!" I called again.

"We'll never make it if I don't hurry!" He replied, taking a large bump too fast. The cab soared for a moment before hitting the pavement with a hard crack. I was jarred and nearly lost my grip on the poor driver, who I was growing concerned over since he the reason for his faint was still unknown.

I was fairly sure the cab was going to break, but somehow all remained intact. I winced as several people shouted curses at us. Among them I thought I caught a glimpse of Lestrade, who was likely to issue a citation for Holmes endangering the public in retaliation for the incident involving his wife.

I then noticed he'd turned in the wrong direction and questioned him about it. Or, more accurately, I told him he had gone the wrong way.

"Nonesense! I know a shortcut!" Holmes replied. "And no driving from the backseat!"


	60. Benzine

**A/N: Give you one guess what my sister just contracted.**

* * *

"Well it's your own fault Holmes." I said cheerfully reading the paper. I didn't remind him how many times I'd warned him about that section of town.

"This is ridiculous." He groaned, slumping in his armchair.

"Oh just think, you get to spend the evening indoors where it is warm." I said. I didn't add that he got to spend it with me, because as happy as I was to finally be seeing more than five minutes of him I knew he wasn't happy to be stalled in his investigation.

The wind howled outside as he replied. "My mind is under-stimulated."

I avoided the teasing reply I had in mind and merely glanced out at the heavy snow as it came tumbling down.

"Holmes this will be over before you know it." I said, trying to cheer him out of his sour mood. I made the mistake of looking over at him and could barely control my laughter. The cap made him look ridiculous.

"It smells terrible." He continued to gripe.

Again, I withheld a remark and put down my paper in an attempt to placate him. "Holmes, your head lice infestation really not that bad." I'd seen worse "Would you like to have dinner now?"

He looked at me sharply. "I think I've lost my appetite because of this benzine!"


	61. Business

Today started as many days with Holmes start- abruptly. I had barely enough time to grab this journal before he rushed me (with little courtesy mind you) through a short breakfast (I've even forgotten just what it was that I ate) and the into a carriage which whisked us through London at top speed with the promise of a half-crown if we got to the train station in time. As usual, we boarded just as it was taking off, and I nearly fell trying to get on the blasted thing.

Holmes glanced at me sympathetically as we found an empty compartment. "So sorry to rush you off like this, but I would be so obliged to your company. I hope I was not the cause of your leg becoming stiff again." He said. As usual, he was able to perceive everything about me.

"My leg is fine." I replied sulkily.

"Watson, it nearly gave out on you back there." He retorted.

"Since you're so in the mood to talk you could explain why you've dragged me out here at a quarter before six?" I said, eyeing him with what I hoped was a demanding gaze. I enjoyed helping him with the problems that so amused him, but I did not like to be disturbed so early without knowing about the business.


	62. Blanket II

"I thought we could do with a little trip down to Whitstable." Holmes said with a sly smile. I had seen that smile often enough to know what implied. I was in no mood to be trifled with and wouldn't let him fool me for even a moment into thinking this was just some holiday.

"You have a case rather." I replied, my voice groggy. It was a simple deduction. It took no brains whatsoever to figure that one out.

"How did you guess?" Holmes pressed. I gave him a glare.

I was tired, very tired, and in no mood for Holmes's lessons in deduction. "Holmes, you are never in this good of a mood unless you are on a case." I replied with a yawn.

He looked a little put out as my tone of voice betrayed my wish for silence. However, he respected it and we settled back for a long ride ahead. I watched the large city of London disappear into trees and open fields, lightly dusting with frost. Winter was late this year, for which we were all grateful. The train ride eventually began to make me sleepy and my eyes began to droop. I was soon wrapped in slumber. Later, though he denied having anything to do with it, I was somehow covered by Holmes' blanket


	63. Banks

"So you see Holmes I had the matter well in hand while you were off the continent." Lestrade said, continuing to gloat over his victory.  
"So I see." Holmes said, his pride pricked by the fact Lestrade had indeed solved a case of his own accord. I knew Holmes' tutoring had had something to do with the success though, and wished the Scotland Yard inspector would give him some credit.  
"Well done Lestrade." I offered. We turned off the path to walk by the pond that was still in the afternoon sun.  
"Yes it was rather my favorite investigation of my career. I am to receive an official thank you from the Baron at a party I've been invited to next week." Lestrade said while adjusting his collar.  
I glanced over at Holmes as changed his step to go beside the inspector and I began to suspect some mischief was afoot.  
"How grand Lestrade, oh do watch your step - "  
Holmes had directed Lestrade around a hole, but the inspector had slipped and was tumbling into the water.  
"Holmes you devil! I ought to - "  
Holmes grabbed me and we began to make our escape. I tried to be stern. "That wasn't very nice you know."  
He smiled regardless. "You can entitle this adventure 'the Case of the Muddy Banks.'"


	64. Baptised

Holmes was beginning to wear on even my nerves as he continued to explain the details of his deductions. Lestrade and I were shooting each other bored looks like two students, ready to turn on our teacher. It was not by accident that we steered our path from the pavement to the banks of the pond.  
Lestrade decided to have a bit of fun with him. "You know Holmes, pride is a sin."  
Holmes shot him a frosty look. "So is the murder which I solved."  
"With some help." I pointed out.  
Holmes realized the odds were not in his favor. "Yes, but you two are missing my point."  
"Your point? About you being the wisest man in the world?"  
"The point about how far a good bit of observation and deduction go to improving the study of crime." Holmes corrected.  
"And just what sort of crime is it to bore your friends with your deductions for an entire afternoon?" I asked.  
Holmes sighed, seeming annoyed. "Really doctor, it is good to improve your skills."  
"We need to work on your social skills. Like... humor for instance." Lestrade's eyes twinkled with a devilish glint.  
"Whatever are you - "  
It was the work of a moment to topple him into the pond and he came up sputtering. "I do not need baptised!"

* * *

Could not decide who I wanted to take a swim so I did both of them. Watson suffers enough in my stories so I let him alone. Besides, I can't think of a reason Lestrade and Holmes would shove him into the pond.


	65. Braving

"You're forcing this decision on me!" Watson cried.  
"Doctor it is for your own good." I replied. Though I knew my brother would have my head if I let Watson go, I would not be able to withstand the pained look on the man's face much longer. "You'll be free to leave in the morning."  
"Free to see him at the morgue then?" Watson hissed.  
"Do you really credit his abilities so little?" I asked, astonished. Watson spoke so highly of Sherlock that I was surprised he was already counting him as dead.  
"The only reason he wouldn't want me along is because he fears that I will be hurt or killed. So he's in the same danger himself!" Watson argued.  
His logic was flawless. Sherlock had made a rather clever man out of him. Watson had been smart, but now he was keen and that made him a match for my brother. He was able to bully Sherlock into allowing him to accompany him most of the time, but now when he was denied the privilege he was outright furious. Rightly so, perhaps, since it fell to him to patch my brother up after accidents.  
"He knows what he's doing, you must see that. If he is killed it will not be in ignorance of the dangers he is braving."

* * *

This has grown beyond what I expected (maybe beyond what I wanted). It's now a separate story - see 'Forced' in my story list for the rest :)


	66. Block

"So you see Watson, the man had attempted to escape through the window, but the wife, seeing as how she has lost the love of her husband, offered him more of the jewels and valuables and then used him to pin the blame. She was league with him and has continued to gradually give away her husband's belongings."

"But how did you know she was helping?" Watson asked.

"It was simple really. The back door was used frequently. You saw the muddy footprints that were contained on that landing – and only there – and I deduced hadn't come from either spouse, as they said they rarely used that entrance. There is no maid or anyone else with cause to use that door and so I started to wonder who had. Combined with her bitterness over her husband's betrayals I – "

I was suddenly aware Watson wasn't there and I looked back to see him bending to reach a coin that had fallen on the ground. I wondered why Watson bothered to get it. However, seeing my friend's back was hurting him, I walked back and picked up the crown to pass it to him.

"Thank you." He mumbled. I knew he hated accepting help. I made the moment less awkward by quickly launching back into my justification as we strolled down the block.


	67. Buried

I was forced, gagged and bond, out of the carriage and across a lawn. I realized where we were and a shudder ran through me. It was a cemetery. We were outside of London, but it was eerie and the chill of it made my skin crawl.

I was roughly led forward and it was hard to see in the inky darkness. I tried to peer ahead, but it was very dark. Just then, my foot hit thin air and I had no time to correct it before I tumbled downwards. It was not a long drop, but being bound I had no control over my landing and I felt sharp pains all along my left side and my forehead as I landed.

I hummed frantically around my gag, trying to rise or free myself. Instead I heard only laughter from above me as I struggled.

Then I felt something hit my shoulder. At first, my mind feared it was some sort of ghost and let out a muffled cry, but then my sense kicked back in and I knew it was just my imagination, fed all those years on the 'romantic' novels Holmes so abhorred.

I felt another blow to my back. This time I realized what was happening and felt my heart seize with terror. I was being buried.

* * *

Little pre-halloween horror :)


	68. Breath II

I had been struggling for several minutes, attempting to get up and avoid the dirt raining down on me, but they aimed it at me and stopped my progress. I tried over and over to roll away, but they were faster than I could be.

Finally they began to overcome me. Exhausted and struggling to breathe I lay, letting the incoming dirt begin to build. I try just to rest and regain my strength before making another go, but I felt panic as a pile hit my face.

I cried out as it closed off my air, filling my nose a bit. I tried to blow it with what little air I had left, but I could feel it getting harder to breathe. My panic only increased my respirations and made it harder for me to get oxygen.

I forced myself to calm down, trying to breathe deeply, but it was hard.

I felt another pile hit the one already smothering me and I tried to roll, but felt the dirt piled on either side.

I realized I was loosing strength fast. I was going to suffocate soon. Shaking my head, I tried to lessen the pile with limited success.

When the next clump came down I finally broke. Tears welled in my closed eyes as I fought for each breath.

* * *

Horror drug out and it's making me mad because I want to know the end too...


	69. Beat

I whipped the horse into a frenzy and we sped through the inky blackness. I ignored all safety and other concerns. This could not be happening. When I finally saw another carriage looming ahead I stopped and dashed forward into the cemetery, hearing the sounds of digging and dreading that I would be too late.

Three shots dispatched the men before they could react to the fact I was there. I found the hole and immediately jumped in. "Watson!" I called, trying to stay near the edges. In the darkness I groped for anything that would indicate where he was.

I didn't feel him, which only mean he was already beneath the dirt.

I dug frantically, fearing the worst as I churned up all the dirt one area and moving around. If he was deeper than I was digging, he would likely already be gone, but if I was near to him there was a chance…

Finally I felt my fingers brush something. It was a cloth. I dug further and felt a cold hand. I tried gripping it, but there was no response from him at all.

My efforts somehow doubled and in a few moments I had uncovered his face. Feeling for a pulse, my heart grew cold and I felt fear grip me. I could feel no beat.

* * *

This is the arch that never ends... Kinda like that haunted house...


	70. Bother II

"Watson!" I cried, removing the gag and shaking him. "Watson no!" I felt something unnatural creep into my voice. Something I was not used to hearing.

I heard a choked gasp from him and using all my strength I pull him into a sitting position, the dirt still on him. I moved behind him and patted his back, trying to get out any dirt that was blocking his air.

He sucked in a breath and then another.

I felt my own lungs begging for one, and realized I wasn't breathing. "Watson?" I asked, rubbing his back. "Dear fellow are you alright?"

He didn't answer at first, merely breathed in air gratefully. 'Holmes…" He murmured, his speech badly slurred.

"Its, it's alright, your safe."

"Knew you… come." Watson still seemed very tired and I gently reclined him back, letting him rest on my lap. I fond my own heart still racing and closed my eyes a moment, tightening my grip on his hand to remind myself he was there. That everything was really all right.

This time, he returned the grip with one of his own, not very strong, but something. I began to relax and looked around, figuring out my plan for getting him home.

Then I realized that I was too far down to get us both out. "Oh bother…"


	71. Beast

The scream sent a chill running through my spine and we both looked up and jumped. Reacting automatically we sprang up and ran from the sitting room, running down the thirteen steps and continuing down the back hallway to the kitchen.

"Mrs. Hudson?" We called as we entered. To our relief, she was alive. She stood on a chair, her eyes wide with terror. I came in a few steps towards her.

"Mrs. Hudson what is it?" I asked.

"Spider." She squeaked, pointing at the tiny creature currently crawling under the small table she used to prepare food at.

Holmes looked rather bored. "It is not even that big." He pointed out.

"Holmes, stop it." I said, retrieving a glass and pinning the creature under it. It explored its cage for a moment while I took an envelope from the table and slid it under the glass so I could lift it.

"Look Mrs. Hudson, it is rather harmless. Just another of God's creatures trying to make a way in this world."

"Well, he's not welcome here."

"How do you know it's not a she? And that she doesn't have a nest somewhere?" Holmes asked.

I glared at him as she turned white. "That is enough Holmes."

Mrs. Hudson began to climb down. "Please doctor, just get rid of the beast."

* * *

Why Doctor Watson was always her favorite :) Carved my first ever pumpkin! And I'm 20...


	72. Bed II

I heard him moving around in his room. I had thought he had gone up with the intentions of sleeping off a small cold he had contracted, but now I wondered what he was doing.

Rising from where I was experimenting with my chemicals again I opened the sitting room door and climbed the stairs to his room. Knocking gently, I found the door cracked a little. "Waston?" I called.

"Hmm?" He seemed distracted. I heard a thud and hissed in pain, muttering something under his breath.

I went inside the room to see him attempting to look under his bed. "Are you quite alright?" I asked, narrowing my eyes in confusion.

He pointed at his feet, one which had a sock and the other bare. "My other sock is missing."

I knew his room was growing rather cold as winter approached and those socks had been a gift from Mrs. Hudson. I bit my lip. "Let me see if I accidently got yours too." I said. She'd gotted me a matching pair and I went downstairs. Pulling them out I took one of them and returned upstairs. I wouldn't miss it for tonight.  
"Here you are Watson, I'm sorry." I said, handing him the sock. He fought to put it on and sneezed. "Now you really should go to bed."

* * *

I opened my sock drawer upon returning home today and this idea quite literally sprang at me and held me captive until I wrote it.


	73. Blah

**Dedicated to Azolean, who decided to use this as an excuse :) **

I could take no more of his lengthy explanation and cut off his story as I attempted to finish the sentence I was working on. He turned to look at me, his gray eyes blinking with curiosity at my statement. I sat smirking at him, trying not to laugh out loud.

"That is not a valid argument." He finally said, looking at a loss to reply.

"Why not?" I asked, acting innocent as I shifted my position in the chair at the desk, trying to get a better sight from my corner of the room.

"Watson I have never heard such rubbish in my life." Holmes growled.

"Now, now Holmes, be nice. I am a doctor and I know it is a serious condition." I insisted.

"Doctor that is not even a real condition!" He stammered, still stunned by my silly response.

"Now how would you know Holmes? You are a self-proclaimed genius who turns to drugs when no other stimulants present themselves in the form of your puzzles and mysteries. How could you possibly understand the conditions that affect those of us with an average intelligence?" I asked.

He opened his mouth to argue, but then seemed to think better of it then. "Well, perhaps sometime you would like me to explain when your brain has not 'turned to blah.'"


	74. Belly

We hailed a cab and began to make our way to the station. Holmes was intent on finding out the destination of the runaways even though I had been hoping to stop for a late lunch.

Suddenly, I heard a rather audible roar. I narrowed my eyes, trying to place the noise and wondering if we were due for an early summer storm. However, the morning had been clear and I was momentarily at a loss as to where it had come from.

A few more moments passed in silence before the growl was heard again. Finally deducing the source of the noise I shot my companion a look.

"Hungry Holmes?" I asked, an eyebrow raised and a smirk playing on my lips.

"I'm fine. Are you alright with postponing lunch?" He asked, seeming to ignore the protests of his own empty stomach.

"I don't know. I'm a little worried that your stomach is going to crawl up your esophagus and eat me."

He was caught off guard by my laughable statement and turned to give me a glare. "That is medically impossible." He finally stated.

"Maybe so Holmes, but your brain will operate better after having eaten." I said firmly. His stomach growled again, as if agreeing with me. "Besides, it would help if we could hear over your belly." _  
_

* * *

**Actually writing this to the rather humorous noise of my own companion's empty stomach protesting its lack of food. :P**


	75. Back III

I watched as my companion paced furiously back and forth across the station. It was apparent Holmes was angry about missing the first train and I wished I had been able to move a bit faster so that we had made it in time to catch the first train. I recalled every stumbled step and how shaky my hands had been as I had tried to count change for our tickets. Even now I tried to warm them by hiding them in my sleeves. I had been clumsy and it had cost Holmes precious time.

I had been in worse conditions before and still managed to move fast enough to keep up with Holmes. I sat shivering; wishing I'd remembered more of my outer garments that had been hanging by the fire to dry. I had been out in the chilly rain most of the day before with patients. Fortunately the downpour had ceased, but I still ached. In the rush to leave I had forgotten my scarf and gloves, and it would take too long to return for them.

"I am sorry," I whispered, "maybe it would be best if I went home and left you to this case. I'm slowing you up." Though I was disappointed that I was not able to join him, I wouldn't hold him back.

_TBC..._


	76. Behalf

Holmes whirled around to look at me, his eyes wide. "I would not hear of it, unless you really are too tired for this venture."

"I am sore, but I enjoy accompanying you." I replied.

"I enjoy your company." Holmes replied. "I merely wish you didn't ache."

"The exercise will actually do me good. Sitting at home will only make me stiff." I answered.

He frowned and stared down the track as if considering something. Then Holmes surprised me. The detective turned towards me, sat beside me, and reached out to take my hands in his own and began gently rubbing them.

I began to protest, but a stern, stubborn look from my friend warned me it would do no good. I could not deny the massaging of my numb fingers was helping. Holmes for his part looked very solemn as he gently went about the task, his grey eyes filled with concern and with some affection. Soon my hands were quite warm and less painful.

Then we heard a train whistle and he rose from kneeling in front of me as the train reached the platform. We boarded and found an empty compartment to settle into.

"Thank you Holmes." I said.

"Think nothing of it." He replied, but I smiled at him grateful for his considerate actions on my behalf.


End file.
